


you make this cold world beautiful

by darlathecyborgpluviophile



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Aerti Week 2018, Crushes, F/F, Fluff, POV Third Person, Sunrises, first time out of Midgar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlathecyborgpluviophile/pseuds/darlathecyborgpluviophile
Summary: Even through the thick overhead tarp, the brightest rays from the sunrise spill inside and give Tifa a warm, holy look, like the faded stained glass windows from the Sector 5 church.“Wanna go for a run?”





	you make this cold world beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> *shows up six days late with bubble tea*
> 
> I wrote this for aerti week 2018! It was originally supposed to fall under the "workout" prompt, but then slipped away from me and became something else. Whoops.
> 
> Title is from Florence + The Machine's "Patricia", which is pretty much my ultimate Aerith ship song.

Aerith wakes just before dawn, a habit leftover from selling flowers on the streets.

There was never a time when Midgar was quiet; with such a dense and deviant population under the Plate, cars never stopped honking, people never stilling, the distant and ever-present hums of the city's eight reactors penetrating all moments. Yet the sunrise managed to bring Aerith peace; and more than that, dawn was the ideal time to pick the lilies at the church, fresh and still glistening with dew.  
  
That chapter of her life has ended.  
  
It's been two weeks since they escaped Midgar with barely their lives, but Aerith knows it takes three or more to break a habit. A stillness has taken over the tent the party sleeps in, and while she doesn't have the heart to break it, the thought of seeing an actual, proper sunrise for the first time in her life tempts her into getting up.

Before she’s blink-blinked the last of her sleep away something rustles beside her, Tifa shifting in her bedroll. For half a hazy second, Aerith slips into her imagination—the day’s first beams of light streaming in through the windows of their little countryside cottage, their shared bed creaking a little as Tifa curls her arms around her in a semi-conscious state, Aerith nuzzling into that gorgeous dark hair as she lulls herself back into a peaceful sleep—

And then she’s back in reality, crammed inside a humid tent with four people and an animal when the label said it only fit three. Tifa isn’t reaching for her at all, instead nudging _all_ the bedrolls in close proximity with her cat stretch. Not a moment later, her own eyes open and blink blearily around.

“Hey,” Aerith stage-whispers, and shakes the lingering fantasy away. “Welcome back to the land of the living!”

Tifa blinks again, twice in a row, and slowly turns her head to the side to meet her.

“Hey,” she fishes out after a second. “G’morning. Is anyone else awake yet?”

Aerith pokes her head up, and leans back on her elbows to survey the bodies of their friends curled up around them; “Nope, doesn’t look like it.”

Tifa hums, and reaches an arm back to run it through her bangs. She sits up moments after, running her whole hand as far down her loosely ponytailed hair as she can reach and pulling it free from its elastic, teasing it out. Watching and not knowing what else to do, Aerith plays with the ends of her own long, messy braid until Tifa sighs.

“Did you sleep okay?” she asks, now stretching her arms up towards the ceiling of the tent.

“Yeah! Yeah.” Aerith discards the ends of her thin brown hair, trying to act as if she hadn’t been playing with it in the first place. “You?”

Tifa nods and changes positions, her arms now crossed in front of her. “God, I’m sore though. I miss Kalm already.”

“Mmm, soft beds,” Aerith mumbles. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The arms come down, and she watches as Tifa’s line of sight trails to the boots laid straight by the door, then back to her own eyes.

She smiles. Even through the thick overhead tarp, the brightest rays from the sunrise spill inside and give Tifa a warm, holy look, like the faded stained glass windows from the Sector 5 church.

“Wanna go for a run?”

Not five minutes later, the two of them are stumbling out of the tent, half-wearing their shoes, giggling and praying they haven’t woken anyone up with their exit.

All at once, the fresh air hits Aerith—she recognizes the smell of damp earth, but beyond that it becomes a hazy mix of sweet and woody. They’ve camped on a hill with long grass that tickles her knees through the slit in her dress, and hardy-looking wildflowers spring up here and there. Before she can put them on fully, her boots slide and slip on the loose dirt around the tent, and all of this combined knocks the wind out of her.

It’s astonishing how natural this feels, how at _home_ Aerith is out here, even when they’re all on the run.

Tifa’s scouted ahead a little already, tying her hair back up in a ponytail while she investigates just a few feet from the edge of the slight cliff they’re on.

“See, there’s a trail right there,” she calls back, nodding with her head towards a dusty, beaten path. “It looks like it continues up this ridge.”

Aerith finds it herself, tracing it with her eyes and watching as it disappears behind a curve into higher foothills. She grins.

“I’ll race you to the end!” she shouts, already taking off. She bursts into giggles at how startled Tifa sounds when she responds with a, “Wait, what?! Not fair!”

Every step she takes finds purchase on the trail. Even dodging around rocks and twigs is easy, after nearly a lifetime of experience picking her way through mounds of trash and makeshift living spaces in Midgar. Tifa’s not that far behind, picking her way up the mountainous path with more ease than she’s letting on.

“You could’ve given me some warning!” she says from behind Aerith, but her tone is anything but annoyed. Aerith just laughs harder and smiles brighter, brushing against the on-again-off-again patches of gnarled wildflowers.

The path they’re following takes a sudden, sharp right up through an almost-sheer cliff face, and Aerith stops to catch her breath. She hears Tifa slow to a stop beside her, panting a little less, but still winded.

“Okay,” Aerith says between inhales, “there’s no way I’m climbing that.” Tifa snorts and shrugs her shoulders.

“Yeah, sure.” She plants her hands just above her hips and turns away, and just as Aerith closes her eyes she adds, “Hey, come see this.”

Aerith turns, and—

The sun’s been up for about fifteen minutes now, but the lavender-pink-orange streaking across the sky hasn’t faded yet. The view that they have from up here is something straight out of one Aerith’s wildest fantasies, the whole sky stretching around them endlessly, like a great marbled ceiling. Wispy clouds flit across the horizon, swirling up and giving everything a dreamlike, pastel tinge.

Her chest feels ripe to burst, physically aching at the beauty all around her; the sky, the greenery growing everywhere on these small mountain cliffs, the woman next to her.

Tifa’s posture is proud, her expression twisted in nostalgia. “I haven’t seen a sunrise in _forever_.”

“I’ve never seen a real one in my life,” Aerith babbles excitedly. “I’ve seen them on TV, they’ve been in dreams and visions I got at the church, but never like this.”

“It’s even better than I remember.” Tifa swipes under her eyes, and when she looks at Aerith, she’s teary but managing a laugh. “Is that weird? That might be weird.”

“Not even a little bit,” Aerith chuckles, and Tifa sniffles.

Somehow, they’re standing closer now than they were before. The unbidden, half-awake fantasy Aerith had this morning flickers back into her mind, and before she realizes what she’s done, she’s reached out and clasped Tifa’s hand in her own.

Neither of them question it, as they take in their newfound freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a GOOD TIMES ONLY zone for aerti and the rest of AVALANCHE; I save my whump for the chocobros.


End file.
